


The Unmaking of John Watson

by Feathers, pounsygirl



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:23:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/648041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feathers/pseuds/Feathers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pounsygirl/pseuds/pounsygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock wants to watch Moriarty and John together. Moriarty is a shit head. and John is like 600% done with life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Unmaking of John Watson

**Author's Note:**

> I requested some Jim/John sexytimes fanart from Katzensprotte. She posted it, and came up with a crack!fic idea. Which I then decided to write.  
> Many thanks go to Strudel who helped exponentially with this fic, so much I have co authored her on this fic. And my dear friend Libby, cryovolcanism7 on tumblr.  
> furthermore I am mmmmmolly on tumblr

Fanart for this fic can be found [here](http://katzensprotte.tumblr.com/post/39412944148/katzensprotte)

 

This was not what John Watson had in mind when this day started. He had hoped they were finished with this little game of Moriarty's, because all he wanted was to go for a walk, then come home and enjoy his goddamn tea.

But now he was strapped to a bomb. And he was with two crazy people no less. Also, snipers.

 

John looked on as his friend flirted with the maniac who had kidnapped him just a few short hours before. None of that mattered, though. Sherlock still thought this was a game, regardless of the amount of explosives involved.

“People have died,” Sherlock stated, holding his gun ready to take aim. _Like you care_ , thought John.

“That’s what people DO!” said Moriarty, yelling the last bit and John rolled his eyes. Sociopaths are so dramatic.

            

It was around the same time that Moriarty threw the memory stick into the pool that John thought _sod this._ He was done with all this talk and no action. What John did not expect was the flash of amusement that passed through Sherlock’s eyes.

“Good! Very good,” exclaimed the consulting detective with a laugh.

John let his arms fall to his sides. _What._

Moriarty fixed his suit ("Westwood.”) as Sherlock tucked the gun into the waistband of his trousers, placing a hand on John’s shoulder.

“John.”

It was not a question but a demand, one that John did not understand. John stared up at his flatmate, who stared back down at him with only excitement and amusement. _What the actual fuck._ John looked over at Moriarty, who grinned back. Well at least the sociopaths were on the same page.

“Sherlock-“ he began, but Sherlock interrupted him, of course.

“John. As always you see but you do not-”

“Observe, yeah, I got that. So, care to explain? Because I know I’ve missed something here but for the bleedin’ life of me I can’t imagine what,” John said, glancing back to Moriarty, whose face was still plastered with a sinister grin.

“Joohhhnnnnyy. Don’t be like this,” Moriarty pleaded mockingly. His voice was pitched low, and he might have been going for seductive, but it just gave John the creeps.

Meanwhile, Sherlock's hand had started stroking John's neck in an effort to placate him.

"Jim," Sherlock said, turning to Moriarty, "I suggest you stop and allow all negotiations to go through me. Your attempts at flirtation are merely turning the good doctor off."

“YOU CAN’T BE FUCKING SERIOUS!” John shouted. He glared up at the detective in exasperation, but was met with only a half-lidded, lust-filled gaze. “You are serious,” the doctor realized. Moriarty was nodding wildly and puckering his lips, blowing kisses in John's direction.

“John…” Sherlock began slowly, choosing his words carefully so as not to alarm his colleague, “It is obvious from the tension in the uhh-” Sherlock glanced around at his surroundings “-pool, that the previous dynamic no longer applies. Moriarty and yourself should engage in intimate relations. Here. In front of me. For science.” Sherlock nodded at the last part as though internally pleased with himself. John let those words digest for a moment. Because holy _shit_.

“Don’t give me that 'for science' crap. I won’t fall for it again,” he huffed out finally, annoyed. “You couldn't have waited until I was no longer strapped to explosives?! This is literally the opposite of how I intended this day to go.”

“John, I do apologize,” Sherlock paused and pressed his lips into a thin line before continuing. “Perhaps Jim can help you out of the vest…”

Following Sherlock's suggestion, Moriarty slowly let his hands creep up John’s chest to undo the clasps of the Semtex, but John just pushed Moriarty’s hands away. Moriarty scowled as he snapped his fingers, calling off the snipers. Slowly, John undid the the vest on his own, feeling Sherlock’s eyes boring into him.

“John, please. I promise I’ll even buy the milk,” the consulting detective begged, a rare sight.

Moriarty licked his lips lasciviously as he approached the good doctor again. He could feel John’s resolve cracking. They all knew the promise of milk for tea was too great.

“For the record, I think this is a fucking insane idea,” John said before gripping Moriarty’s neck roughly and crushing their lips together, much to Sherlock’s surprise. He honestly hadn’t thought that John would give in so quickly.

Moriarty chuckled and nipped at John’s lips. “Are you just getting that now?” he purred. John growled harshly in response, biting down on Moriarty’s neck. The younger man let out an audible moan.

“It's about time for you to shut the hell up,” John commanded. He slammed the consulting criminal against the change room stall, grinding his hips as their kisses grew more heated. Sherlock was watching them in fascination, palming his erection through his trousers.

 

Moriarty spun them both around and gave John’s arse a squeeze before slithering down to his knees. He nuzzled John’s cock through the now excessive and wholly unnecessary layers of fabric that covered it.

“Hello, Johnny boy,” he breathed as he started to unzip John’s jeans, so slow it was tortuous.

John tugged Moriarty’s head back roughly. “Get on with it.”

A soft moan escaped Sherlock’s lips, but John paid him no mind. He could stand there as uncomfortably and awkwardly as he liked, John was too busy fulfilling his fantasy.

 

Moriarty deftly pulled down both John’s pants and trousers and John's cock sprung out. The consulting criminal's tongue swept away the small bead of precome that had already gathered, eliciting a groan from the doctor. Jim licked from root to tip and let his tongue swirl around the head before taking in the whole length. John hissed as he was surrounded by wet heat.

 

“Fuck his mouth,“ came Sherlock’s voice, deep and rough, and John’s eyes snapped open. John complied willingly, grabbing Moriarty’s head with both hands, messing up that impeccably slicked-back hair by threading his fingers through it. John pumped his hips, allowing his cock to hit the back of Jim’s throat. Moriarty gagged, the resulting constriction simultaneously just right and _too fucking much_. John relished the feeling as it sent shivers through his cock and up his spine.

 

At the rate John was thrusting into Moriarty’s mouth, he wasn’t going to last long. Which suited him fine. He'd been promised milk for his tea.

 

Meanwhile, Sherlock was grunting something incoherently, just out of John's field of vision, and all of these noises were getting to the doctor: the slick sound of the devil’s mouth, the shifting of clothing, his own moans and those of Moriarty that were causing those fantastic vibrations to ripple around his dick.

 

“Fucking hell,” he spat, two words at a time the most of which he was capable. And  Moriarty just took it, dragging his tongue flatly against the bottom of John’s cock, pressing against the vein before swiping at the glans.

 

John looked down to the man on his knees before him and saw cold, brown eyes gazing back. He hated those soulless eyes, but he couldn't deny that he loved the feeling. Jim cupped the good doctor in one hand, rubbing his balls as he sucked down every inch of John's cock, palming himself with the other. Shifting his hips and tilting Moriarty’s head, John changed the angle to drive a little deeper. The sensations were so overwhelming that he was reduced to mumbling gibberish in between grunted curses.

"You bastard," he breathed, “God…Fuck." Explosive situation indeed.

 

On the verge of losing complete control, John turned them again, slamming Moriarty’s head against the wall again with a good ‘thunk’ and pinning him there, stuck between a rock and a veryhard place. He supported himself on one arm against the wall, as the other hand kept it’s fingers tangled in the criminal’s hair, squeezing tighter with each pushthrustdrive. He could swear Moriarty was smiling, even with a mouthful of cock. All this for some milk. Well then, John was going to get the most out of it.

John pulled out of Moriarty’s mouth and came, painting long stripes over that unsettling, grinning face. The consulting criminal’s tongue flicked out to lick away the cum around his mouth. John rolled his eyes and zipped himself up.

 

“Sherlock? We’re leaving now,” he said, turning to the unresponsive Sherlock, who was too dazed to react, preoccupied as he was with a very obvious, very painful looking erection. “You can fix that back at Baker Street for all I care,” John said, nodding to the bulge in Sherlock's trousers. He gave himself a mental pat on the back, proud that he had rendered the detective both speechless and aroused, no easy feat.

 

It took them both a few moments to make themselves presentable. Finally, they walked outside, ready to hail a cab. Moriarty followed close behind and grabbed John’s arm before he could get into the car.

“Johnny boy! Give us a kiss,” he said playfully, leaning in.

“Oh fuck off, ” John spat as he wrenched himself free and with great satisfaction, slammed the cab door in the consulting criminal’s smirking face.


End file.
